


figuring out how to start

by outranks



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Fluff, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:22:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/pseuds/outranks
Summary: There is no one else as violent and brittle as John, or so full of an untouchable madness.And no one else that Rook chooses, time and again, to spend his nights with.





	figuring out how to start

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon who requested "M!Dep with a bratty/needy John" ❤️

There are a lot of people in Hope County who Rook could choose to spend his free time with. Members of the Resistance, civilians, Peggies who don’t shoot him on sight, rabid wolverines; there’s a lot to pick from. And what makes all of those options great is how not a single one of them is _John fucking Seed._ Not one of them will demand Rook’s time and attention while begging for his devotion and spitting sin no matter what he says. There is no one else as violent and brittle as John, or so full of an untouchable madness.

And no one else that Rook chooses, time and again, to spend his nights with. 

He sneaks to the house and climbs through a window on the second floor, knowing that all of John’s guards will be focused on other parts of the property. It’s a dangerous gamble for both of them, though Rook never fears for his own life. 

“You’re late,” John says, sitting at the end of his bed in only his jeans and a sharp scowl. 

“We never set a time.”

“You got back to the valley _yesterday._ ”

It’s a reminder that Rook is always being watched in the county; whether by John or one of his siblings. There are few places he can go where no one will find him, and most of them are underground. “Yeah, and I was tired, so I stayed at Fall’s End.”

“You could have come _here,_ ” John says. “I would have let you sleep.”

“Why would I do that?”

John snorts and looks back out the window. “Are you going to fuck me, or do you want to keep talking?”

“I can do both,” Rook says, kicking off his shoes while trying to pull his shirt over his head. “And I thought that you liked when I talked?”

“You thought wrong.”

Rook balls up his shirt and tosses it somewhere toward the corner of the bedroom. “Are you— we don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to. I can leave…”

John growls sharp frustration, breathing heavily out through his nose. “I want you to _stay,_ ” he says. “I want— I want to stop _talking_ and get to the part where you fuck me and then you go back to playing hero for your Resistance.”

“Hey.” Rook gets a knee on the bed and a hand splayed over John’s chest. “Are you angry with me?” 

John doesn’t answer, instead tangling his fingers in Rook’s hair and pulling him into a kiss that’s all teeth and violence. They haven’t been like this, at least not since the first time when they were both trying to _hurt._ Each other, mostly, but a part of Rook had wanted to hurt himself for allowing John to ever get that close. But they’re not supposed to be like that anymore. 

He pushes John back, just a little, to catch his breath. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I won’t get it.” 

“Nothing is _wrong,_ ” John hisses, tone pointing firmly at that being a lie. The bed springs creak as he gets up, pushing his jeans down his hips until they fall to the floor and he can step out of them. “Stop trying to care.”

“I do care.”

John looks at him, mouth pressed in a thin line, before he opens a drawer in the bedside table and tosses the contents over to Rook. “Last time you were here you said that you would come back.”

“I _did_ come back.”

“You went to Fall’s End.”

“I was _tired._ ” 

“You should have come _here._ ”

Rook doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows they’re talking in circles. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you said you’d _come back._ ”

Rook can’t help the sound that escapes him; deeply frustrated and close to screaming. “I’m here, now. I’m right here and you’re mad at me and _I don’t know why_.”

“And I don’t know what you want from _me_ , Rook.” John crosses his arms over his chest, jaw set firm as he stares right over Rook’s shoulder. He’d make an awkward sight for how angry and naked he is, except for the long line of his torso and his firm thighs that Rook would love nothing more than to spread wide as he pushes in to the heat of John’s body. 

And if they weren’t _fighting._

“Every time you come here you make promises and I _believe you,_ ” John says. 

“John…” The promises didn’t count. Rook didn’t think they counted. Confessions, atonement, scars and ink on his skin to be put there by John’s steady hand. It isn’t supposed to mean anything when John whispers to him about _fate_ and God’s plan for the two of them. Rook makes a lot of promises he doesn’t think he’s supposed to keep, no matter how much he sometimes wants to. “John, I don’t—”

“I let you into my home, I let you spread _sin_ through the valley, I’ve kept my brothers from taking you—”

“ _What?_ ”

“Do you think they don’t know? That they don’t care who is in my bed?”

Rook hadn’t really thought about it at all, especially not when sometimes he fears that even the thought of Joseph will summon him. “Why would you do any of that? For me?”

“Because you’re supposed to be _mine,_ ” John says. “You were sent here for all of us, but you’re meant to stay with me. You’re meant for _me._ ”

That’s insane and, worse, not entirely unexpected coming from John. If Rook were a smarter man he would have known to leave long before they ever got this far. But he’s not a smarter man, and he always ends up back with this prickly, confusing man. “John—” he reaches out, grabbing John by the elbow and pulling him onto his lap with only minor resistance, forcing John’s legs open over his thighs. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true—”

“Of course it is.”

“But I like when you say it.”

John bristles, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What does _that_ mean?”

“It means—” Rook slides his hands down John’s back, brushing his fingers over John’s hole and watching as his face goes slack— “that if you want me to stay then I’ll stay, but you have to say it.”

“I _have_ said it,” John mutters, still all sharp edges of tension. 

Rook hums, pressing a finger in dry and feeling the way John starts to melt against him.

“If this is your way of apologising, you’ll have to do better than that.” The venom in John’s voice feels like a direct counterpoint to the way he’s rocking back slightly to pull Rook in deeper and the way he has his face tucked against Rook’s neck. All of his sharp edges trying to cut and become soft at the same time.

“I’m sorry for making you think that I don’t want to be here, with you,” Rook says, pulling out to rub at John’s rim, teasing him into a full body shiver. There’s really nothing else like the satisfaction he gets from having John become pliant and needy because of him, even if it’s often a fight just to get him there. 

He reaches for the lube where it fell on the bed, pouring more onto his hands than he’ll possibly need, but Rook likes when John is dripping wet and so beautifully open. When he can slide right into the the tight heat of John’s body like he belongs there. His fingers slip in, past John’s resistance, pushing in until he hears a soft sigh and feels warm breath against his skin. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says.

“You can _try,_ ” John snaps, sharp tone undercut by the hitch in his voice.

Rook gets his free hand between them, lightly touching at John’s hard and leaking cock, feeling pleased when John groans and tries to take more than Rook is ready to give. “I don’t know what to do with you,” he says. “I want you spread out on the bed and get you so wet and loose you stop fighting me, but I also want to keep you right here an make you work for it.” Either way, he’ll get to watch John shatter into pieces.

“Or you can keep talking about it instead.”

Which is a fair point, though Rook sees the way John’s cheeks are stained pink and his eyes are losing focus. He places a kiss to John’s temple and presses his fingers _in,_ delighted at the full body shiver that John can’t suppress. “I think I like you right here,” he says, pressing his thumb right under the head of John’s cock and rubbing just light enough to make him squirm. 

“Rook,” John breathes, rocking himself in place. “ _Fuck me._ ”

“I’ll get to it.” But first he wants to pull John right to the edge so when he slides in he’ll already be desperate for it. Rook has been an idiot for thinking this is something he could live without or stay away from. He _knows_ John, probably better than he should, and he know he’s only allowed to see John like this because there’s some measure of trust between them. “I don’t want you to want anyone else,” he says, stroking John’s cock, lazy and just this side of too soft.

John grinds down, rubbing against the thick layer of denim that’s proving just the right amount of friction to have Rook aching. “I _want_ you to stop _teasing me,_ ” he says, pressing his teeth against Rook’s neck. Not quite biting down, but promising that he _can._

It’s not the sweetest thing John has ever said to him, but Rook thinks he’s learning to read between the lines. If John doesn’t like his confession, he’ll say as much, and loudly. “I said I’ll get there.” He takes his hand of John cock just long enough to spread more lube onto his fingers and around John’s hole. “I’m gonna make you nice and wet, first,” he murmurs.

John’s hands clench at his waist, holding tight, with his teeth still threatening his neck. There’s a soft trembling through his entire body that Rook can feel him try to hold back, but his breathing stutters, only emphasising it more. 

“Fuck, I really—” Rook isn’t sure what he wants to say, only that he wants to promise John _something_. But now probably isn’t the time for that. Instead is plays with his rim, teasing a wider stretch as he increases the pace of his hand pumping John’s cock. Winding him up more and more, growing harder with every soft sigh and quiet moan that escapes him. “You’re perfect for me, you know that?” Out of everyone Rook has met since moving to Hope County, not a single person has come close to making him feel the way John does. All confused and excited and, more often than not, like he’s _home._

John pulls back a little, staring him in the eye. “You’re saying this _now?_ ” he asks, bouncing on Rook’s lap a little, trying to fuck into his fist and back on his fingers at the same time. “You are so— _fuck_ —” he curls forward, pressing his forehead to Rook’s shoulder— “so _frustrating._ ”

“Yeah.” Not that he’ll say it, but Rook is certain that’s at least one of the reasons John wanted him in the first place. “Hey, can you—” he reluctantly moves his hands to John’s hips, leaving tacky fingerprints on his skin, to force him up onto his knees. “There you go.” It’s a little awkward for Rook to get his jeans unzipped and pushed down his thighs without dumping John onto the floor, but he manages with a small degree of grace. 

“Finally,” John says, tone somewhere between annoyed and grateful.

Rook grabs for the lube, slicking himself up before pulling John in close and rubbing small circles against his lower back as he slowly sinks down onto his cock. As wet and open as John is, he’s still tight and so wonderfully hot inside. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, waiting for John to adjust. “How do you always feel so good?” Every time is like a fucking revelation. Like Rook is learning all over again what it’s like to have someone as sharp and unpredictable as John riding him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

John lifts himself up on shaking thighs and drops back down, setting a broken rhythm punctuated by his own quiet moans. “Shut up, shut up,” he says, voice breaking on a sob. “Stop saying things you don’t mean.” He braces one hand on Rook’s shoulder and reaches for his cock with the other. 

“You think I don’t mean it?”

“You—” John’s mouth drops open and his eyes fall shut as he begins to stroke himself. “You— it’s— _lust._ ”

That’s not entirely wrong, but Rook has felt lust more times than he can count and John is the first person he’s been willing to lose his mind for. “If this were only lust, I could have taken care of things myself,” he says, spreading John open so he can touch at where they’re connected; where John is stretched around him. “I like _you._ ”

John’s breath cracks over the broken sound of his name. “ _Rook_.”

Rook leans in for a kiss, running his tongue over sharp teeth and sharper words. He rolls his hips and lifts John and starts fucking him like they both need. Hard, snapping movements and harsh breathing, barely covering the obscene wet sounds that fill the air. 

“Fuck,” John hisses, stripping his cock faster to match the pace Rook has set. “I need, I— I want—”

“I know.” Rook can already feel himself getting close and he wants to pull John with him.

The position isn’t right for what he wants, not anymore, and his fingers dig into skin, too hard but unable to stop. He lifts John off of him, ignoring the soft whine of confusion, and drops him onto the bed. “On your stomach,” he says, moving John into position so he can slide back in, pulling him up by the hips, and bracing a foot on the mattress for a deeper push.

John practically _squeals_ , scrambling at the sheets to meet every thrust. “Yes, fuck, come on.” 

“Touch yourself,” Rook says, “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

For what has to be the first time since they’ve met, John doesn’t argue. Instead the only sound that comes out of his mouth are soft little pants and hitched sighs that let Rook know when he’s got the angle right. And when John is getting closer. 

Rook snaps his hips, fucking in, and rocking the bed with each thrust. He’s close and he can feel his balls tightening and pressure building and it doesn’t take long before he feels John tense and clench down, pulling Rook right over the edge. He groans as he comes, dragging John in close, and spilling his release inside of the tight heat of his body. 

Beneath him John is shaking apart, gasping for air with his face pressed to the bed. Everything about him is a mess and Rook can’t help but to think he’s fucking _beautiful._

“Fuck.” Rook pulls out slowly, watching the way John tries to close around him, keeping everything inside. If he weren’t nearing exhaustion that would be enough to make him ready to go again. “Hold on,” he says, finding where his shirt landed and picking it up from the floor to wipe himself off, helping John to roll onto his back and cleaning him as much as he can.

“We should shower,” John says, eyes closed and still breathing hard.

“I’ll need a new shirt.”

“Not if you stay here.”

Rook sighs, tossing the old one back to the ground and dropping onto the bed beside John. “I’ll still need to wear _something,_ ” he says.

“Joseph doesn’t wear wear a shirt, you’ll fit in.”

Which is concerning, even without Rook asking _where,_ exactly, he's supposed to fit in. “So how’d my apology go?”

John hums, cracking one eye open. “Was that supposed to be all of it?”

“Was that—” Rook pulls John into his arms so they’re curled up together. “I like you so much, I’m going to pretend you’re not the most demanding man I know.”

John hums quietly, running his nails down Rook’s side. “So you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.”


End file.
